


Wedged - The Spinoffs

by Shaunarnia



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: F/M, Sexting, cursing, estranged spouses, pre-divorce
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-28
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-01-06 10:49:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12209733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaunarnia/pseuds/Shaunarnia
Summary: I've previously had requests in for Wedged spinoffs, and I've decided to post the finished works on here, too!





	1. Sexting

Cleaning out your closet is a chore you’ve always put on hold. After months of telling yourself ‘If I can’t do it today, I’ll do it tomorrow instead!’ and coming up with various other excuses, you’ve decided that today will finally be the day to get it all done.

You start with the bottom of your closet, deciding that having to try on various articles of clothing to see if they still fit you like they used to is too much effort. The drawers that make up the bottom half of your closet will be more than enough to keep you occupied for the next hour, even if it was the  **only**  thing you’d get done today.

Vast amounts of clutter fill the top drawer, from hair brushes, to hair ties, to old gadgets and gizmos that you never use anymore. Removing the drawer and setting it beside you, you opt to start with the gadgets first, and an old mobile phone catches your attention. You smile, remembering that this is the phone you used when you and Jon had first started dating. You try turning it on, and much to your amazement, it actually still works and holds 47% battery life.

Your immediate thought is to go to read the old texts, and before reading the most recent ones at the bottom of the screen, you scroll all the way up to some older ones, biting your lip and inwardly cursing yourself when you find that you’ve stopped scrolling right when you get to some rather…explicit…messages from Jon.

> **> > [text] Jon: Just retained my title…wish you were here to CELEBRATE with me though**

This is just the first of many. Curiosity getting the better of you, you read onwards.

> _> > [text] (Y/N): Oh really Champ? Tell me more, what would you have me do for you?_
> 
> **> > [text] Jon: You’d greet me at my locker room door and my hands would be all over you. I’d be pulling your hair and grabbing your ass and you’d moan for me**
> 
> _> > [text] (Y/N): Mm, you know how much I like that…you wouldn’t even have to ask me or tell me to suck your cock. I’d pull down your trunks and be on my knees for you within seconds_

Merely reading the messages has you recalling the rest of the conversation. Shifting slightly from where you’re sitting, you skip some of the conversation, delving into even filthier sexts.

> **> > [text] Jon: I’d kiss my way down to your pussy and groan at how fucking amazing you taste. Then I’d fuck you with my tongue while you’re flat on your back screaming for me not to stop**
> 
> _> > [text] (Y/N): My panties are soaked through. Typing with one hand now. Had to start touching myself_
> 
> **> > [text] Jon: [image attached] I’m so fucking hard baby. Wish I was there to give you the rough fucking you deserve**
> 
> _> > [text] (Y/N): [image attached] Imagining my fingers are your cock filling me up. Jon I’m so fucking horny, going to cum so har-_

“Mommy, what are you reading?”

The sound of your daughter’s voice startles you. Rapidly locking the phone and dropping it to the floor, you turn around to face her. Your cheeks feel like they’re on fire, and you don’t quite know how you do it, but you manage to ignore the ache between your thighs.

“Oh, it’s nothing! Just clearing out some junk.”

You smile and hop up to your feet, shoving the rest of the clutter back into the drawer in your closet for the time being. You keep the phone, though. Part of you is scolding yourself, but another part of you wants to reminisce some more.

You keep trying to switch your feelings off, harden your heart, but you can’t. The bottom line is that you simply miss Jon in every way imaginable.


	2. The Tattoo

You had no idea you’d regret it  ** _this_**  much. At the time, you were ecstatic about having Jon’s face inked on your thigh. He’d even spurred you on to do so, but now? You couldn’t bare to wear skirts, shorts, even dresses that rode up above your thighs, because it meant looking at the inked version of your ex’s face on your skin. How would you explain that to any future partners, either? You’d managed to keep it hidden from your daughter for long enough, too, but now, you were getting rid of it for good.

Laser removal was something that hadn’t even initially crossed your mind, but when a friend had suggested it to you, you could’ve leapt for joy. Of course, you’d booked an appointment as soon as there was one available, and you couldn’t wait to rid yourself of Jon’s face for good.

You practically power walk your way to the studio, wanting to get this whole thing over and done with as soon as possible, but you stop dead in your tracks when you spot an all too familiar face, and your jaw drops. What the fuck were the odds of seeing  ** _him_**  here?

“Hey there, gorgeous.”

Jon smiles, propping himself against the wall of some bar he’s standing outside of. You groan internally and you roll your eyes, biting your tongue until you think of something civil to say to him.

“Jon, I’d love to stand around and talk. Really, I would, but I have somewhere to be.”

Jon hums and smirks to himself, swigging some beer from the bottle dangling in his hand.

“You’re in a rush, huh? Hot date? Booty call? Either of those?”

“Fuck off, Jon. I don’t have time for this.” you snap, scowling at him, “I’m not like that. Not anymore. And if you really want to know, I’m getting rid of your fucking portrait, because I can’t stand seeing your face anymore. Happy?”

Jon stands there in silence for a moment, then he slowly nods. He won’t admit it, but he doesn’t know what to say to that. Doesn’t even have a witty retort, either. He’s so eerily calm, and you don’t know how to feel about it.

“I remember going with you the day you had it done.” he speaks quietly, “You were shit scared. Thought it was really gonna hurt you.”

You nod a little, clearing your throat as you think about your better times with him. This was one of them. You were about two and a half years into your relationship with Jon when you’d brought up the topic of getting a tattoo for him. After numerous brainstorming sessions and various odd suggestions, Jon had mentioned simply getting a portrait of him on your thigh. And, of course, you were more than happy to agree, because you were so in love. You had no idea you’d be regretting it six years later.

“That’s because I  ** _knew_**  it was really gonna hurt me.” you sigh, “I thought it was beautiful at the time. Now, it’s….I don’t know.”

 _Hurts more to look at than having the tattoo itself done_ , you think.

Jon nods a little, carelessly letting the empty beer bottle drop onto the floor, not giving a single fuck when the glass around the lips shatters.

“I make you sick. I fuckin’ get it.”

He scoffs, tugging at the collar of his leather jacket. You go to say something, but you refrain. Instead, you sigh, shaking your head at him.

“No, I just…” you hesitate, “I don’t see the point in having the face of a man tattooed on me when we don’t even love each other anymore.”

You tell him, but you know you’re lying to yourself. You could snap at Jon all you wanted, but deep down, feelings are still there. You couldn’t say with certainty that it was love, but it’s definitely something strong. Jon feels it, too. He’s too much of an ass to say so, but he’d get back with you in a heartbeat if he was sure you’d even take him back.

“Then why are you still standing here? Don’t go being fuckin’ late because of me.”

He spits with a little  ** _too_**  much venom, but it’s not like he’s prepared to take it back. You nod a little, not even bidding him farewell. You don’t even look at him as you pass him. You simply continue to walk. And even though Jon doesn’t look at you when you pass him, he longingly watches you leave. And you’re none the wiser.


	3. The Calm Before The Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You've kept your second job a secret from Jon, but when he finds out about it by total accident, he's not happy. At all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: I have an idea for a Wedged spinoff. Y/N starts working as a stripper and Mox finds out.
> 
> Also, I decided to set this before the events of Wedged, so it's pre-divorce!

Staggering drunkenly through the double doors of the entrance to the strip club, his arms slung over the shoulders of the two friends stumbling along either side of him, Jon’s eyes rake over his somewhat familiar surroundings. The neon signs, scantily clad women, the stage with the pole in the centre, even the disco ball hanging from the ceiling, right down to the pulse of music reverberating off the club walls and the inescapable scent of sweat and smoke. It all triggers memories from many moons ago, before he’d even met you.

Since he’s been with you, Jon hasn’t set foot in a place like this. Even though he’d been pretty fucked up on all kinds of stuff when he’d been in here in the past, most of the memories were still pretty prominent to him. He couldn’t possibly forget all of the money he’d blown on private dances, drinks, making it rain around area where the pole is, or shots in the past. But those days are long gone now, and he’s fine with it. And anyway, it wasn’t even his choice to come here this time around. He and his group of friends had started off their boys’ night out at a dive bar just outside of town, and eventually, despite his initial protests, they’d dragged him to the strip club with them, too.

“Alright, alright! Fuck it! Before any of you even ask, I’ll take one for the team and get the fuckin’ shots.”

Jon’s laughing, and even though he’s the one who put himself forward as the resident shot buyer, he flips his pals off when none of them step in and offer to buy them instead. Even then, he doesn’t give them the chance to offer, because he’s already sidestepping his way over to the small bar in the corner, while they’re already ambling around and sweet talking the few dancers currently dotted around in the club.

“Six shots of...fuck it, any of the strong stuff, sweetheart.”

Jon props his elbows up on the bar, cracking a smirk at the petite blonde who’s currently serving. He smirks, yes, as part of the Moxley charm, but his eyes don’t wander. Not once. And he doesn’t even need to fight an urge of any sort to prevent himself from staring at her tits. Years ago, he would’ve been absolutely wanton about it, even would have made a crude remark about them to her face. But now? Even though it’s relatively recent, he’s a very happily married man, and he’s not about to fuck that up.

“Whiskey good for you?”

The blonde asks, batting her lashes at him, to which Jon simply gives her a curt nod. She turns around, bends down, and reaches for the shot glasses on one of the lower shelves of the bar, purposefully sticking her ass out, but Jon still doesn’t take the bait. Even when she’s intentionally making her tits jiggle in her bustier while she’s pouring the shots, his eyes still don’t travel south.

Jon tosses a ten dollar bill onto the surface of the bar, mumbling for her to keep the change, and he goes to collect the shot glasses to take them over to his friends. How he’ll manage to do it without spilling any of the liquor? Christ knows. But he’s sure as hell going to at least try.

“Mox, guess fucking what!”

One of his friends, Sam, bounds over to him, damn near almost colliding with him. Jon curses and places the shot glasses back on the surface of the bar before he turns towards Sam.

“Just tell me, and grab three of those shot glasses. Make my life a little fuckin’ easier, man.”

He hums, picking up three glasses, looking at Sam expectantly, but he does no such thing. Instead, he gestures over to the group of men they came here with, and he grins a mile wide.

“I will, but look over there! Drake’s got himself a dance. And honestly? Probably gonna end up taking her home, too.”

Jon hums and looks over in the direction Sam is pointing in, and…

That’s when he sees you. Even in the getup and wig you’re currently wearing, and the fact that he’s a  **_little_ ** drunk right now, there’s absolutely no mistake that Jon is currently looking directly at his fucking  **_wife_ ** , who’s about to lead one of his friends away for a private dance. 

The buddies surrounding Drake are still hollering and egging him on, and Jon’s face fashions a scowl that’s set in stone at the scene that’s playing out right in front of him. Sam doesn’t even notice the look on Jon’s face. Doesn’t even realise that anything’s wrong. Not until Jon practically slams the shot glasses down onto the bar and begins storming over to you and Drake.

You’re taking Jon’s friend - who, you don’t actually know is one of his friends - by the hand, and you’re about to lead him into the back, but you don’t get past the red velvet curtain which leads to the area. You don’t even make it anywhere  **_near_ ** the curtain. The guy whose hand is currently in yours is practically ripped away from you, and without thinking, you whirl around, scowling, because you know it’s down to someone intervening.

“Hey, what the fu-”

You stop, mid sentence, and the scowl drops from your face. Instead, it’s substituted with pure shock. Horror, even, upon coming face to face with your husband  **_here_ ** of all places. One, because he has no idea you’ve been doing this just to pocket some extra cash to get by. If you’d told him you’d even considered becoming a stripper, you knew he’d never approve. No fucking way. And two, what was  **_he_ ** even doing here in the first place?

“Oh? So  **_this_ ** is work, huh?”

Before you can even pick up where you left off, Jon interjects. He has a face like thunder, but he sounds...calm. Eerily calm. The kind of eerie calmness you’re all too familiar with. He’s been like this every time you two have ended up arguing with each other, and eventually, it’s led to both of you being almost quite literally at each other’s throats.

“Jon, listen to me-”

“No, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?! All this time I thought you were on a ‘night shift’,  **_this_ ** is where you’ve been fucking sneaking off to?!”

Jon takes a step closer to you, towering over you now. A bouncer near the entrance to the private lounge steps forward, ready to begin making his way over to you both to diffuse the situation, but you throw him a glance and give him a shake of your head to dismiss him.

“Let me finish!” you carelessly raise your voice, but you remember where you are, and you take a deep breath, “...I’m not doing this here. Give me ten minutes, I’ll meet you out the back.”

“No, you’ll meet me outside. Right. Fucking.  **_Now_ ** .”

You’re about to protest, but Jon grips your forearm, tightly. Then, effortlessly, he’s leading you outside, and you don’t make a scene about it. You allow it, purely because you know that the bouncers will end up making their way over if you fight against him, but you also know that Jon won’t hesitate to start swinging if they so much as lay a finger on him.

When you’re through the double doors and you’re finally outside, Jon proceeds to drag you towards a nearby alleyway. The bouncer on the door clearly assumes the worst, and he steps forward, fists clenched, but they remain at his side. You know shit is about to kick off, so before Jon can open his mouth and make things bad for himself, you step in.

“Everything is fine, really! I’m just...this is my husband. W-We need to talk about stuff.  **_Alone_ ** .”

You emphasize, widening your eyes at the bouncer. Although he’s reluctant, he takes the very obvious hint and nods, but he remains vigilant, not taking his eyes off of you or Jon. Rather than leading you into the alleyway, Jon stops short of it. He releases his hold on you and backs you against the wall, bracing his arms either side of you, boxing you in while he glares down at you.

“Who the fuck do you think you are? You’ve whored yourself out like this for fuck knows how long, I bet! And I’m only  **_now_ ** just finding out?!”

Jon roars, and you wince. In the sense of tiptoeing around him with this second job, you know you’re in the wrong. But your intentions were good. When you took it on, you were thinking about Jon. Also thinking about yourself, yes, but your future with him was in your mind, too.

“Because I knew you’d get like this if you found out about it!” you frown, straightening up, and you look him in the eyes, “This is just to make ends meet! We can’t get by on the hundred, sometimes even less than that, that you earn from doing the odd show or two! Even with my paycheck, we can’t cope, and you fucking know it!”

You blink back angry tears, and Jon opens his mouth, about to fire back with a retort, but you cut him off. Pointing a finger at him, you carry on.

“No, you’ll let me fucking finish this time, and you’ll listen to me when I talk to you! This is just work. That’s all it is! I strip and give private dances, yeah, but that’s as far as it goes! So don’t you  **_dare_ ** throw cheating accusations my way like that! I’ve never kissed any other guy since I’ve been here, let alone fucked another guy or anything like that! And you’re a fine one to talk, because what are  **_you_ ** even doing  **_here_ ** ?!”

“This is a boys night out! And if I was coming here to land a quick fuck or whatever, would I really be wearing  **_this_ ** ?!” Jon frowns, lifting his left hand to show his wedding band on his ring finger, and then, he leans in closer to you, “Where else would all those hundreds come from, huh?! We talked about finally getting a house together! Even having a fucking  **_baby_ ** together-”

“I did it for  **_us_ ** ! I did it so we could finally afford a decent house to raise a baby in! You think I wanted a stripping job?! I took it on just so we could get by and not have to worry about being fucking broke like we were last month!”

Now, you’re crying. You’d held it together for as long as you could, but you can’t stop crying. It’s not even out of upset. Well, upset plays a part in it, but it’s more out of the frustration that Jon doesn’t see where you’re coming from with this. You knew he’d be pissed if he ever found out, but when he was oblivious as to how you’d gained such a hefty sum of money in the first place? Didn’t say a word. Was over the moon about it.

You try to duck under his arms and push your way past him, just so you can go back into the club, go to the back, get changed and pack your shit up so you can just go home, but he stops you. You sigh, and with teary eyes and tear tracks on your cheeks, you look up at him, somewhat calmer.

“I kept it from you. And I’m sorry for lying about it. But I’d rather you just not have known about this. Because now I bet you think way fucking less of me.”

Jon frowns and shakes his head, and although he’s far quieter this time, you can tell he’s still pretty pissed off about it. Of course, he still has alcohol in his system, so he’s not going to be taking this lying down.

“I’m still fucking pissed about it. You  **_lied_ ** to me. And I bet you’re expecting me to just go on and trust you like this never even happened, right?” he frowns, then, he sighs, “I...I get it. The extra money made a difference, but  **_this_ ** ? Baby, you coulda gone about it a different way.”

“Then…” you pause, thinking it over, but then, you continue, “...I’ll stop. I’ve already earned, uh...about six hundred this week. Let me finish the rest of the week, then I’ll stop.”

You don’t expect Jon to tell you not to stop, and you know he’s not about to shoot down your idea, either. Instead, he nods, and you sigh and wipe under your eyes. To your surprise, though, Jon stops you. Then, he curls his arms around you, pulling you into an embrace. At first, you don’t return it. You half expected him to storm off, maybe even land a fist against the brick wall after cursing you out. But he doesn’t.

“You better stop. You’re  **_mine_ ** . Nobody else’s. Fucking mine.”

Jon tells you, but there’s no malice in it. It’s more matter of factly, and, through sniffles, you nod and hug him back, tightly. You’re hesitant, because you half expect him to kick off again. But he doesn’t. 

“I know. I’m yours. ...Always will be.” you whisper, “I’m done for the night. Well, ‘m  **_not_ ** , I had a few more hours to go, but I can’t work like this. I’m telling Serena I’m off for the night, then I’m getting changed and going home. I’ll...uh...see you there. If you decide to come home.”

Jon frowns a little, shaking his head. Bemused, you flash him a look, prompting him to explain himself. He may still be pissed at you, but the man isn’t heartless. He’s not about to let you go like that. Won’t let you go home and cry until you pass out on his side of the bed. No, he loves you too damn much to let you do that.

“I’ll call a cab or something. Had enough to drink tonight as it is. Don’t want to get shitfaced for once, so…” he hums, then looks down at you, “Go get dressed. I’ll have a night out with the guys some other time. I’m being a grown ass man and going home with my girl tonight. Not staying out just because we had a fight.”

You nod a little, biting your lip. Then, after you’ve thought about it, you pull Jon down for a kiss. When he reciprocates the kiss, you’re relieved. Really, you thought you were taking a chance with this move, what with everything that’s just transpired, but it paid off.

“I’m not expecting us to be absolutely okay right now, but I want you to know that I love you.” you tell him when you break the kiss, “And we’ll definitely talk this through tomorrow. I don’t know what we’ll do, but we’ll think of something. We’ll figure it all out.”

“I know we will.” Jon nods, and he goes in to kiss you again, “We always have, and we always will. And I love you, too.”


End file.
